


Calculating Curves No One Can Read

by Itar94



Series: Building Neutron Stars [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alpha Rodney McKay, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Building Neutron Stars: The John/Rodney Arc, M/M, McShep - Freeform, Mpreg, Omega John Sheppard, Season/Series 02, Slash, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 13:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itar94/pseuds/Itar94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One day," John says at length. “But Pegasus isn't a safe place.”<br/>“Then we’ll make it safe,” Rodney says - a promise.<br/>Then he screws everything up by destroying three quarters of a solar system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The continuation of [Flying a Ship With Silver Lining](http://archiveofourown.org/works/909110/chapters/1760649). A story set in a 'verse wherein John is a stubborn omega flyboy with heroic streaks and Rodney is a stubborn alpha who might be just a bit obsessive and pessimistic, and both of them are a little bit in love.

[ ](../../../tags/Building%20Neutron%20Stars:%20The%20John*s*Rodney%20Arc)

**Calculate** /ˈkælkjʊleɪt/  
[verb – transitive] _  
_ _discover a number or amount_  
 _using mathematics;_  
 _make a judgment about what is likely to happen or be true_  
 _using the available information_

* * *

The journey back to Pegasus goes smoothly up till the point they discover a Wraith-manufactured virus is taking hold of the ship.

As with most of John’s daredevil plans, Rodney protests very loudly because solar radiation and flying without navigational computers can only be very, very bad and very, very dangerous; Elizabeth expresses some doubts, shared by Caldwell, but in the end they let him go through with it and they _survive_. Flying in an F-302 with Rodney in the seat behind him is both thrilling and exhilarating and a little bit annoying because the scientist won’t shut up about initial dampeners, but simultaneously the alpha admits that John is a damned good pilot and that the plan in the end was fairly good (for beign the idea of a flyboy with crazy hair).

Albeit John suspects Rodney will keep complaining about his sunburn for the next three months. (But kissing makes him feel better.)

* * *

Atlantis is a sight for sore eyes.

Many of the piers are still out of shape due to flooding during the storm and gunfire the city taken during the recent battle. But the city is still there, sitting atop the water as a beacon of hope, and it’s _home_.

No one expresses much surprise when they are beamed down from the Daedalus into the control room, not until John realizes that Rodney’s hand has slipped into his and people have the dignity not to stare or question. But that’s quite all right.

Teyla smiles knowingly at them both, happy for them, her support having greater weight than nearly anybody else’s by now. They’re a team and teammates stick together.

Nearly eleven weeks have passed by since the siege and so much and yet so little have changed. No one tells either alpha or omega directly, but the city appears brighter now they have returned. And John tells no one directly, but the gloom that Earth had caused to settle over him fades as soon as they rematerialize side by side.

* * *

One of the conditions of them sharing quarters is that John’s Johnny Cash poster is to left where it is on the wall and Rodney is to have an exact space (four by five square feet in the corner) where he can keep his computers and equipment scattered on a desk – never mind the fact that he has a private lab, he needs to be able to work at any time (who knows when the next great breakthrough will occur?).

It’s been three weeks, six days and sixteen hours since they left the Earth (out of which they spent three weeks aboard the Daedalus) when the last of Rodney’s bags have been moved and unpacked. The reason they choose John’s quarters is because it’s perfectly situated near a transporter, from which they can reach both the labs and the gate room without issue. The private balcony with an astounding view of the cityscape doesn’t hurt either.

“… and over there we could move in a couch. For movie nights; we could discretely borrow a screen from one of the abandoned labs in the outer edges of the city. And a cradle along the wall there.”

John halts while in the middle of sorting out clothing (his BDUs in the top drawer, Rodney’s _I’m With Genius_ tee-shirts in the bottom one). The domestic feel of the scene hasn’t really hit him until now.

“You really want…? I thought, well, you’ve never seemed to like kids that much,” John asks, sinking down to sit on the mattress of the bed. Technically, it’s two beds pushed together; they haven’t spent much time in them yet (together). He’s glad that Rodney understands and respects his wishes.

John is still a bit afraid of the moment that they will share the bed, properly, even if he also longs for it with a certainty he has desired anything else. It’s the outcome, he guesses, that scares him. Can he really fulfil his duties as military commander of the base if he were to become pregnant? Would the marines accept it, their commanding officer carrying the child of the head of the science department (or anybody’s child)? Will they still be able to follow orders of an omega without taunt?

“Of course I want them. Though well I'm not that good with kids, it's more the principle of the thing but I've had some time to think about it while on the Daedelus and, yeah, I need some heirs to carry on my legacy and all that, plus I've already made sure they'll have access to the world's best universities where they teach proper science-”

Rodney stops himself when he notices that his boyfriend (he assumes that they are even if they’ve never really coined the term) has sunk down into a sitting position, unusually quiet and contemplative. “You do, right? Um, or maybe you don’t. John?”

John wants. He has wanted, for years. But there have always been too many boundaries, and he still can’t quite believe that some of them are gone now.

“One day,” he says at length. “But Pegasus isn’t a safe place.”

“Then we’ll make it safe,” Rodney says - a promise.

* * *

They search and search but there is no sign of Ford.

The claws of guilt won’t let him go.

* * *

It takes a while to convince the man – Ronon Dex, Specialist ( _Runner,_ Teyla had murmured, a bruise on her forehead) – to let him go and fetch Beckett. In exchange for their lives they’ll give him freedom.

It’s only fair.

Then, they realize that Ford is on the very same planet, looking to avoid them just as much as they’re looking to find him.

* * *

Darts flying overhead, Ford stands with a gun in his hand. The planet has only an anonymous designation and has no name, no population, but still the Wraith are right on their heels as if searching. The tracking device once buried in the Runner’s back has just been destroyed and the aliens must be confused, scurrying across the surface of the world. But when John halts in front of his old teammate, the Wraith are the least of his concerns.

Aiden won’t come back to them, he says, refusing to lower his gun. Won't come back to Atlantis. Back _home._

“Ford!” John shouts, pleads. “There are people missing you, Ford. People back on Earth. People on Atlantis. We miss you, your team misses you. You can come back, Ford. We can help you.”

John takes a step forward, but Ford shakes his head and throws himself into the dart’s culling beam and out of sight.

It’s not the defeat that brings John to his knees, but the conviction that he’s utterly failed a friend and it takes many minutes for him to gather his breath and stand again.

* * *

Later, when Ford has vanished since long ago, Major Lorne breaks through the trees, Rodney on his heels, along with the Runner. John’s astounded to see the man on his feet looking no worse for wear, like he hadn’t had a knife near his spine forty-eight minutes ago.

John stares at the sky in despair. Rodney tugs on his arm, the darts whining; they have to move before things get worse.

It’d been so fucking close. So _close_ – why couldn’t Ford realize they just want to _help_?

“That was your friend?” the ex-Runner asks, words short and simple.

John nods.

Then, as the man begins to walk away, he says, “Come with us.” ignoring the astounded looks Rodney sends him.

* * *

“You’re not – not interested in him are you? Oh my god. He’s obviously your type. Very … brawny. Military sort of guy, big gun. That didn’t come out right. Fuck, he’s interested in you, isn’t he, I saw how he looked at you earlier –”

Rodney scowls, nose wrinkling up as he studies the figure from the security footage. The man (who doesn’t talk much) is being followed by two marines wherever he goes but it’s just a precautionary measure. By the end of the week he’ll have clearance and he’ll make a good asset to their team. According to John.

The alpha can’t for his life see that. The man is obviously all muscle and no brain and – gods, John _can’t_ be thinking about cheating on him with that guy can he? Walk away before they’ve even mated, to be with … with _him_?

“ _Rodney_ ,” John sighs, “it’s nothing like that!”

“Well sorry for being suspicious. He’s obviously the kind who kidnaps people in their sleep and, and do things that are too horrible to consider. You’re _my_ omega.”

Something in his chest swells and contracts simultaneously, and John’s cheeks heat up. It doesn’t help that Rodney is having this outburst in his lab, uncaring that Radek is sitting two feet away squirming (John can’t decide if the man is feeling pity for his predicament or is trying not to chuckle).

“Look, he’s not my type, Rodney. I like geniuses with shockingly large egos, who can crack the codes of ancient tech with a snap of their fingers and understand Star Trek references – I doubt he could do that. _But_ , he’s a good warrior and tracker, and we need a guy like that on the team.” Lorne has been substituting as their fourth member for a while now. All since Ford … since he left. But the major is more than ready to form his own team and someone else needs to take the role left behind. “It’s for the _team_ , Rodney.”

“Yeah, well, whatever.”

Knowing that this is as far as their conversation of the matter will reach today, John gestures at the whiteboard, the numbers scrawled across the surface. “Want me to help you look over those?”

* * *

Earth people are strange, Ronon reflects, making so much trouble over basic things and making everything so complicated with their rules.

Their customs are weird, the way they speak is bizarre (some of them never seem to get to the point) and their uniforms are unlike anything on Sateda. Their weapons are quite good, though. Effective and loud and they fit well in his palm, though nothing beats his own gun.

They glance at him when they think he can’t notice, but the marines – that’s what they call their soldiers – remind him of his battle brothers back home ( _home_ – gone, lost, forgotten, alone), they’re alright fighters, alphas with a few betas among them, strong and disciplined and trained for years.

There is an exception among the alphas though and Ronon cannot quite wrap his head around it at first. Why the hell have they sent an omega to a battle-front, risking losing him to the Wraith, especially if they have a whole planet untouched by the Wraith past the gate in the ancient city?

How come he’s a commanding officer, Ronon isn’t sure, because he’s rarely encountered worlds where people would risk their omegas to partake in fights – other than training them to defend themselves, if the case was that they even struggled against the Wraith. (Too many people just ... give in.)

 _Lieutenant Colonel_ they call his rank (making him think of his first Taskmaster, of hours of training under the hailing gunfire) albeit there are so many words unfamiliar to Ronon that the former Specialist doesn’t bother keeping track of them all. What matters is that there’s only one man, currently, that he respects enough to follow his orders and he doesn’t care what his title is.

 _“We’re a team,”_ Sheppard had said and Ronon is still a bit bewildered at it all; that he’s no longer a Runner (but his home world is lost, turned to ashes long ago and there’s nothing to resurrect) and these people have taken him in, offered shelter and food and relative safety (because no place is truly safe).

Teyla helps in explaining some. He wonders at first if she’s Sheppard’s mate, her being alpha, but the scents and signs don’t add up and then he meets Dr Rodney McKay for the first time – properly, not at gunpoint on an unnamed planet – and _realizes_. And he respects them enough to take his leave when he finds them in a corridor near McKay’s lab (apparently he’s the chief of science or something), pressed up against the wall with their tongues down each other's throats.

Which makes things even _weirder_ , because the man, while alpha, isn’t any kind of warrior; not the kind of man Ronon would expect would be up to the challenge to mate with Sheppard, who is brimming with stubbornness and energy, hardly a soul to easily be tamed and harnessed. Yet Teyla says the two are life-mates (even if they may not realize it themselves).

He’s going to keep his eyes on them both. It’s rooted into his spine, the sense of _duty_ , and he’s more than willing to watch out for Sheppard because Sheppard got them to take out the tracking device in his back. Sheppard freed him and stretched out a hand, giving him more than just the choice of fleeing into the wild, gate to some other planet without having to fear being followed by the Wraith.

Sheppard gave him the choice of a _home_. And Ronon took it.

Now, it is his duty as a solider of Sateda (even if the planet’s ground has been burned to a crisp by the Wraiths’ gunfire) and now a member of this team of 'Lanteans (they’re not Ancestors, they keep insisting, but the city lights up in Sheppard’s presence leaving no traces of doubt), to watch out for them. His team. And Sheppard being omega makes it even direr to protect him, even if the earthling himself loudly insists that there’s no need, he’s not a weakling.

Ronon can’t explain to him properly that it has nothing to do with strength or weakness – there is so much these people do not understand or know. They're not from Pegasus. They haven't been raised under the Wraith's shadow.

Yeah, these people are weird and crazy, sending their omegas to the battle-fronts, but Ronon guesses he must accept this now, this new world, because there’s no way else to go. Plus, he kind of likes them. Not everyone, of course, some of the scientists are really whiny and when the marines glare at him he glares right back. But Sheppard doesn’t shy away from him and Teyla is good company as she, an Athosian, too is an outsider amongst the earthlings.

McKay, the final piece of the team, might just have to grow on him, he supposes. Even if the man talks a lot more than he uses his gun, so unlike any alpha Ronon’s ever met. But for Sheppard to have accepted him as a mate he must be all right, strong and good enough.

(If else Ronon could always give him some elementary training like all alphas on Sateda are given, so that he can properly protect Sheppard. After all, a mate’s safety always comes first.)

* * *

The dart is torn in two, unsalvageable, but John will be damned if the two lives carried within will be lost as well.

Because Rodney’s in there.

 _Rodney_.

The scientists struggle to comprehend the machinery for hours as John paces, his pulse rising with each step and his patience dropping, and he can’t keep the thoughts of _What if they cannot save him? What if I’m alone?_ wholly at bay.

Rodney _can’t_ have left him alone –

“I think I’ve got it,” Radek cries out then and a figure rematerializes, looking around dumbly for a moment before falls onto the grass.

“Rodney!”

John is there at his side in a flash. Carson checks for a pulse.

“He’s fine,” the doctor says, “but we need to get him back to Atlantis.”

Captain Cadman is still stuck inside the dart’s storage device. At least, that is what they believe until Rodney wakes, four hours later, a voice in his head.

* * *

“So … Cadman? Rodney? You okay, both of you?”

“Yeah. Gods, this is bloody annoying and _no,_ Cadman, we won’t – not while you’re in here! Uh, I’m hungry, could I have a sandwich and some jell-o? Of course jell-o! It’s good!”

Not knowing to be amused or bewildered or wholly disturbed, John allows his alpha to talk to the voice in his head. Carson claims him to be all right. Except for the part he’s got another conscious next to his own.

Normally John would have been hesitant about kissing and touching when a subordinate is nearby. But Rodney insists on holding his hand and there’s not any real room for argument as John doesn’t want him to let go. His heart hasn’t really calmed down yet.

Then, suddenly, Rodney smiles, a secretive not-really-Rodney smile and John realizes that it’s _Cadman_ smirking at him through Rodney’s mouth. “If only you knew what he’s thinking right now, sir, it’d be the kinkiest film you’ve ever seen.” John controls himself enough not to blush. Barely. “Though I’d like to get out now.”

“We’re working on that, Captain. Don’t worry.”

“Appreciated,” and it’s Rodney again, still holding onto his hand.

* * *

As John shows Ronon around the base, Rodney won’t let his omega out of his sight. It’s not his fault that he’s obsessive and pessimistic and what else is he meant to think when his omega is spending time with the rough ex-Runner?

 _You know,_ a voice quips in his head, earnest surprise in there, _I thought you were already mated._

 _These things take time!_ Rodney snaps back and really, Cadman has no right to see through his thoughts like that. It’s _private_.

Besides, even if they were mated, he’d still not be comfortable about having that caveman too close to his omega.

 _No wonder you have trouble with people,_ Cadman says in his head and Rodney decides to keep quiet, for once.

* * *

Though uncomfortable with the thought of Cadman in his alpha’s body, John does forgive her, in time, for making Rodney kiss him with unmatched fervour in front of half the base personnel right before they manage to separate them. There is a risk it’ll be a failure and both of them will be lost and she wants to give them at least one last chance.

Having Rodney kissing Carson though, that causes John's guts to twist, even if he knows that while it's Rodney's body it's Cadman's kiss and he has no need to fear or be jealous. But still. Carson looks utterly baffled afterwards (John would have, too, if his first kiss with his interest was through a third person's body).

For the fifteen minutes that they have to wait, John is scared right down to the bone and he regrets being on those damned pills for so long. If he hadn’t taken them, he might’ve been in heat weeks ago and he could’ve shared himself with Rodney if just once –

* * *

Then Rodney is back, just _his_ Rodney, and the next kiss is even better than the last and one thing leads to another –

_“Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay, this is Weir. We’ve found something we think you'd like to check out. Please report to the control room immidiately.”_

“Always something,” Rodney sighs before tapping his earpiece and John manages to conceal a noise of displeasure by pressing his face into the crook of Rodney’s neck.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been four weeks, three days and five point three hours since they came back to Atlantis when John goes into heat. No suppressants are holding it off this time.

It’s midnight and Rodney wakes up when hearing a dull thud of something falling. As soon as his eyes open, his senses are flooded with the scent of John and _need comfort-warmth need not-enough want must-have_ **_please_** –

He finds the omega curled up on the bathroom floor, between the ancient version of a bathtub and the sink, arms wrapped tightly around himself, shivering. He’s waited for so long for this, and being presented to the scenario so abruptly tilts his balance.

“Rodney,” John whispers, hissing as Rodney draws near. His eyes are wide and pupils dilated and dark and he can’t control the tremors working their way through his body. He feels empty and full of need and, oh gods, he doesn’t want be left alone. Can’t be left alone. Needs to be touched. Nothing can be enough.

“Oh god, _John_.” Rodney’s hands come into contact with his skin and John buckles, trying to grind against him, make them touch. More. More, he needs _more_. The lights in the room flicker and dim and every fibre of his being hums. Everything is crystalline and hazy all at once and he grasps at anything for support - _Rodney, Rodney … !_

* * *

Rodney has enough sense left to lock the doors. Then John grabs him by the shoulders and drags them down onto the bed, climbing to sit across the alpha’s thighs and they are quickly too lost with each other to think about lights or condoms or radios.

(Atlantis is humming at the back of John’s head.)

* * *

“This okay?” the alpha whispers, entering him slowly and making a string of intangible noises of pleasure, oh gods John is so warm and perfect and nothing has ever felt this fucking good –

John tugs him closer, urging him to move, to stop hesitating. “I’m not a fragile doll, Rodney,” the omega murmurs and lets Rodney lose all boundaries.

* * *

“Again. Please.”

In the middle of _again_ , the headset lying on the bedside table crackles to life with a question, but Rodney turns it off without a word, not able to handle any distractions at the moment.

* * *

“My mate. My John.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, stroking Rodney’s cheek, “my mate. My Rodney.”

The feeling rooted in his heart is not unlike how it imagines it to feel to be building stars.

* * *

Seventy-two hours later, they turn on their radios again, announcing themselves to the world and at once, Elizabeth contacts them, a sharp edge of worry to her tone.

They’ve been locked up in their quarters for so long and the others had begun fearing an emergency – a slightly awkward, understanding silence settles once they explain that no one’s been hurt or trapped by some ancient machine or anything like that (and _thank god_ they never managed to crack the crystal panel and force the doors open).

They meet up with Teyla next morning in the mess hall to share breakfast. John eats twice as much as usual, downing two bottles of mineral water in a row but that is only to be expected; he’s rested and exhausted all at once, dehydrated and hungrier than he can ever remember to have been. Both he’s never felt so complete and fulfilled and _happy_. (He realizes then how strange and crazy he must have appeared, now when people know he’s hidden as an omega for years and years, and always said no to a mating.)

Rodney never wavers from his side, not for a minute, the alpha’s arm bumping his own as they sit side by side and if they can’t stop glancing at each other, smiling secretly, well, John blames it on the hormones.

Teyla congratulates them in Athosian fashion, and offers a feast on the mainland if they wish to become life-mates and John grins in thanks; but Rodney becomes so horribly flustered at the idea of so many people celebrating the fact they’ve just had the world's most mind-blowing sex that the omega decides to take pity on him and tell Teyla that they’ll, you know, think about it.

When Ronon appears ten minutes later, he doesn’t say much as per usual, and the ex-Runner doesn’t appear surprised at seeing their entwined hands and intermingled scents. But John thinks he can hear the mutter of _About damn time._

He couldn’t agree more.

* * *

It’s mean to be a simple mission, quick and peaceful, a chance to find more trading partners so that back on Atlantis they’ll have food on the table for another day. It’s like dozens of missions they’ve had for the last few weeks.

Only, the people of Olesia keep their gate without a dialling device on an island full of prisoners for the Wraith to feed on, and everything becomes so much more complicated after they find that out.

* * *

The jumper jolts in mid-air, nothing but forest for another mile. The whole craft tilts.

“Where the hell did _that_ come from?”

Shutting out Rodney’s outraged cry, John avoids the next blast, and the next. Then the jumper shakes again, lights within it flickering and it heads downwards. John just manages to swear loudly before impact. The jumper crashes harshly, mere yards from the gate, rattling everyone within and he feels oddly worse than usual – he’s crashed ships before (not on purpose), hell, he’s crashed _jumpers_ before – but the initial dampeners must’ve been knocked out along with primary systems.

Last thing he remembers is seeing the ground curl up around the front of the ship and Rodney shouting his name.

* * *

Coming to, he finds himself sprawled over the consoles, Rodney avidly shaking his shoulder.

“… John! John, are you all right?”

His forehead aches; there must be a gash there, bleeding but not heavily. He’s had worse. After a couple of seconds, his vision steadies to reveal a cracked windshield and a hand waving in front of his eyes.

“’m fine,” he mutters, sighing as he leans back against Rodney’s TAC vest - Rodney’s presence steadies him more than anything (except he’d really like some Tylenol right now). “Not one of my better landings. Sorry.”

“Oh great, he’s hit his head.” The alpha makes some exasperated noises. “Teyla, big guy …?”

“We’re fine, Rodney,” Teyla responds softly. Ronon only grunts.

They manage to get the jumper hatch open, Rodney’s hand resting on his side, only to have a spray of arrows landing at their feet. At once they fall back. John raises his P90 immediately to return fire, crouching behind a fallen supply box near the hatch, his team taking up position around him.

An arrow pierces Ronon’s leg and he breaks the shaft, tugging it out like it’s nothing while Rodney looks at him like he’s mad, continuing to shoot bolts of red toward the treeline. John can make out figures moving there – human, by the looks of it, not Wraith (which explains the lack of stun bolts).

Then another explosion lands on the left side of the jumper. So these people have both primitive bows _and_ some makeshift version of C4. Great.

“You know, this is not the way to make new friends!” John shouts over the gunfire.

“We need to get out of here,” Rodney says, frantically, grabbing his arm and tugging backwards into the jumper, where they at least have _some_ cover.

“The jumper’s damaged and won’t fly anywhere,” John replies curtly. “We need to find our way back to the gate on foot.”

Only they never get the chance. They’re surrounded, men suddenly pouring out from the covers of the trees. Their clothing is dirty, makeshift and poor, just like their weapons, and definitely none of them has bathed in weeks. The team stands back-to-back, but even with their P90s they couldn’t take all of these people down before they’re full of arrows like needle-cushions, so John signals them to hold their fire. This could all be a big misunderstanding, and he’s not fond of the thought of shooting down a bunch of innocent people (even if they don’t _look_ all that innocent).

“Hi, folks,” John says, trying to sound calm and relaxed so not to startle them. He doesn’t miss the way Ronon’s teeth are clenched, or Rodney’s flickering gaze, or Teyla’s finger resting on the trigger. “Uh, I hope I didn’t crash land on anybody …”

A man steps forward, obviously a leader of some kind. He’s tall with dark hair and he oozes of confidence. An alpha. The other strangers cow around him.

“Your ship. Can it take us through the ancestral ring?”

“You’re referring the ship you just shot down?” Rodney answers sharply in an _Are you complete morons or just pretending?_ tone, which could only make matters worse. “Yeah. It could have. If you hadn’t _shot it down_ and completely fried its circuitry.”

“Rodney,” John hisses. “Just … shut up, all right.”

The man eyes them, glaring at Rodney, in annoyance, and likewise at Ronon, who any alpha would consider a threat given the Satedan’s looming shadow. He looks over at Teyla, sniffing the air and frowning when sensing she’s an alpha and John realizes what he’s doing. The man seeks to find the weakest link in the team, so that he may exploit it in order to – well, _something_.

Nostrils flaring, the man rounds up at him and John stares back; he’s lowered his rifle but it still rests in his hands, and shooting the man or anyone nearby would take just a couple of seconds and they must be aware of that.

“That one. The omega. We’ll take him.”

Rodney cries out, raising his gun and stepping up, using half of his body like a living shield. “Fuck off, you backwater morons!”

Ronon, too, acts as soon as the words are out of the man’s mouth, pointing his weapon at the man’s forehead. “You won’t touch him,” he growls.

“Hey! Hey, calm down, everybody,” John exclaims and, slowly, reluctantly, the Satedan lowers his gun; the P90 isn’t entirely steady in Rodney’s hands and John is pretty certain it’s not just nerves. But if they struggle against the demands now, they could all be shot down and killed and who would that help? “What do you want?”

The man smirks, self-assured in his plan. “We’re taking the omega as insurance. You fix the ship so we can leave, and then you’ll have him back and you can all heave unharmed.”

Rodney growls. Like _hell_ he’ll let them take John away, god knows what they’ll do; if they touch him he’ll –

Incredulous, he stares before he can finish the thought when John for some mad reason _agrees_ to the terms because it’s all crazy and dangerous and –

“I’ve got a plan,” John murmurs, cutting him off. Well, he has. Sort of. “Don’t worry.”

* * *

None of the prisoners on the island count on John cutting his bonds and grabbing a nine mill and a radio strewn along with other stolen goods around the camp. He knocks the guard unconscious as they stare baffled, then runs the out through a backdoor while he hears the sound of an explosion far-off – the rest of the prisoners are amusing themselves by testing out various weaponry found in the fallen jumper. At least they aren’t testing them out on him.

The escape is ridiculously easy. Perhaps because, while arriving armed, these people won’t consider an omega a threat and if so, John plans to take full advantage of that.

One thing these people haven't learned it that one should _never_ underestimate an enemy.

* * *

By the time he finds the jumper, Rodney’s working with the broken control crystals babbling all the while, muttered curses, and Ronon and Teyla are sitting on the ground in front of the open hatch, guarded by several of the prisoners who are holding P90s they’ve just stolen.

John kneels in the underbrush and checks his ammo. They’re way overdue and Elizabeth will send a rescue any minute now; it’s just a matter of waiting until the Stargate activates and then he can send a message through over the radio, on a safe frequency, and ask for backup, set up an ambush to free his team and get them the hell out of here.

Patience. That’s all they need.

But Rodney’s not very good with patience.

* * *

By the time a second jumper is sent from Atlantis, the Wraith have already arrived to begin culling, and Rodney has chewed the prioners' leader's head off for being stupid and incompetent and he still hasn't managed to get the jumper into any sort of working order.

John manages to get radio contact with Lorne just in time. And as the island empties, the prisoners whooping as they rush through the gate to freedom, the enemy cruiser turns toward the mainland instead. For a moment guilt tugs at John for letting it happen, for having hundreds possibly thousands of people put at risk to free those two hundred prisoners from the fate at the Wraiths’ hands. But there is no time to linger on the thought.

When they’re all through and only his team remains, Lorne lands the cloaked jumper to pick them up. John relies the word and at last reveals himself to his team, approaching them with his usual grin, receiving relieved smiles in returns from both Teyla and Ronon as they pick up the discarded P90s the prisoners left behind. At once Rodney starts berating him for being stupid and heroic and fighting the guards (“It was just one man, Rodney, not an  _armada._ By the way, did you forget I've destroyed entire Wraith hives before?” "With backup! And help! And proper weapons not your bare fists!") to escape on his own, but he doesn’t miss the relief _(thank god, I thought, I feared they’d – John you idiot!)_  rolling off the alpha in waves.

The jumper carries them home, and John thinks that it’s okay to let Rodney keep complaining, just this once. Ronon won’t stop smirking and Teyla is merely rolling her eyes, albeit John takes pity on Lorne who looks utterly bewildered was the scientist’s scolding grows more and more elaborate.

* * *

Being back on Atlantis after a mission - especially a mission such as this, which they’ve spent the majority of being shot at and threatened to be killed - feels good.

Now that some time has passed since the man’s joined the team, Rodney decides it’s time to face it and apologize. He’s realized some things in the last couple of days, including the fact that he’s paranoid (and obsessive and distrustful) but also that there might be a friendship – a great friendship, even – waiting for him if he could just let go of old prejudices and fears. John would never cheat on him, even if he has this Kirk air about him; he is far too loyal for that.

“I realize I’ve been acting like kind of a jerk and being all suspicious of you and well, I’m sorry, you’re not that bad to be around and, well, what you did back there made me realize. That you’re not that bad.”

“I get it, McKay,” Ronon says, the longest sentence he’s put together within Rodney’s hearing range since they first met; “You were just protecting your mate and thought I was going to take him away from you. But I have no such interest in Sheppard.”

“Uh, right. Umm. Well, thanks. That’s … that’s good, that’s very good to hear because I’m glad you’re not interested in Sheppard because that’d be, well, not good. So I guess we’re cool, right? Friends?”

Ronon just silently looks at him and Rodney guesses that’s as close to a reply he’ll get in the matter.

* * *

(Months later, after they’ve saved each other’s lives and covered each other’s backs in battle too many times to count, Ronon calls them _brothers_ and some variation of the word in Satedan. And then Rodney finally understands the full meaning of the word _team_.)


	3. Chapter 3

They’ve been in Pegasus for nearly two months.

He’s starting to forget how difficult some things are on Earth, and how few things he misses of the planet that he was born on. Back on Earth, he has no family to speak of - none that he has been in contact with for the last fifteen years anyhow, and he's pretty sure no one back there misses him. This is a far better place, in John’s opinion, even if they have to look out for life-sucking aliens on a pretty daily basis.

Nothing matches the rush of flying a jumper, guiding it with his thought, or stepping through the gate to yet another unexplored world, or finding something new hidden in the bowels of the city. Nothing is like discovering the stars.

And when things are relatively calm and they stay on the base for several days in a row, he can always spend time with Rodney in the labs, amusedly looking on as the scientists there argue over some calculations or something they’ve found in the database and light odd Ancient things up for them. He gets a plus in their book when he does that, even if Rodney doesn’t like sharing.

John still remembers that time Rodney had been in the control room when suddenly he’d stood up, shouting over the radio, startling everyone in his vicinity – apparently someone had told him that his mate was helping Radek with an Ancient device and some calculations on it and well, Rodney had taken it all the wrong way. John had taken great amusement in watching him gape like a fish when he’d rushed down to find the Colonel and the Czech standing before a screen discussing algorithms and integrals and not doing anything of what Rodney had been fearing. Poor Radek might have been turned into shreds anyway, but luckily Major Lorne had passed by and helped John to separate the two scientists who were, in his honest opinion, being ridiculous (one of them anyway).  Once everyone had calmed down again, John had added the finishing touches to the numbers on screen and gotten the device working and then taken Rodney to the mess for some coffee.

(Coffee always helps the alpha to calm down.)

But despite all this and other incidents in the past, things like these are easier in Atlantis than on Earth. On Atlantis there is always the risk they’ll be attacked by the Wraith or some other enemy, and the concern it creates distracts people and they worry more about _living_ than about making up illusionary threats to their love-life.

At first, John thinks this a good thing. Rodney’s worried and paranoid enough as it is. There is no need to add fuel to the fire.

* * *

After they’ve received the regular body check-up at the infirmary after coming back from yet another run-in with unruly locals – nothing but bruises and gashes, nothing broken - Carson pulls him aside for another test, carried out in solitude as the rest of the team are cleared to leave.

John blinks in surprise as comprehension dawns.

“But I haven’t felt any symptoms, no morning sickness or anything, no nausea … maybe a couple of headaches, come think of it,” he says, surprised. Not having any earlier experience to rely on gives him no footing in the matter. Fear and apprehension and joy wells up in his heart, not unlike the first time he and Rodney kissed, the first time they touched. “How far…?”

(Since that night when they mated, he and Rodney haven’t been able to stop touching.)

“Then you’re one of the lucky ones,” the doctor smiles. “I’d say you’re about three weeks along.”

Silently, in awe, John lays a hand on his belly – there’s been no noticeable change, and three weeks means that the embryo is too small to be of any significance even during a scan. They already have an ultrasound scanner amongst the infirmary equipment, Carson assures him, but he won’t need one until somewhere around the sixth week or later, and as the doctor says it, it feels a whole other lifetime away.

_He’s carrying a baby._

And then, he’s struck by fear – he’s military and military aren’t expected to become pregnant, to leave the battlefield because of a child. He’s the military commander of this base but from now on he might just become a burden.

But even if he hides it for a while longer, in order to do his job unhindered and not be treated with more mutters behind his back, there is one person who deserves to know.

John means to tell Rodney at once, but radios begin to crackle with excited messages and with a thank-you and apologetic look to the doctor, John rushes down to the control room.

Already something new in need of exploration has been found. Everyone is so busy already even if they’ve just come home again.

He means to tell Rodney at once, but the scientist is gleefully talking about tracking an odd signature deep in space, on some planet they’ve never visited, possibly the remains of an ancient outpost – something they must find right away. Everyone is excited and anticipating and if he tells the news now, they might just ground him to the city, leaving him here alone while Rodney leaves to discover whatever could be waiting on the surface of the planet.

Or worse, they might decide to send him back to Earth, because it’s safer there, because on the base of SGC he could carry a baby to term without the trouble or dangers presented in Pegasus – but he cannot let that happen. Cannot let them separate him from Rodney, not now (not ever). The IOA and the Generals back on Earth could call him back without needing excuses to do so, but he needs to discuss the matter with Rodney first because he’s the father and his mate and it’s his right to know.

Carson is sworn to confidentiality. Even if the doctor will be displeased, he can and will hide it. Not forever, just for a time, (a little while); John just needs time to think and tell Rodney before he can announce it to anyone else. Decide what to do. Wait just for a little while.

So he lets the thought just … slip away.

* * *

Wreckage after dozens of Wraith ships slowly orbit the planet, void of life, but the energy readings, faint as they are, are enough for McKay to convince them to land. And any possibility of a weapon against the Wraith is always good enough to check out, in John’s book.

Dorana is a dead world, covered in ashes, but they realize why too late – far too late.

* * *

When the weapon first overloads and they lose one of the scientists, Rodney still keeps insisting that _he can fix it_ , that it’s useful, that they _need_ this weapon operational – and maybe they do. Maybe it’s the one thing that in the end can defeat the Wraith and also provide them with a new unlimited power source and solve all the problems of the Pegasus galaxy.

But what should the cost be? How many people are they ready to lose?

He might have told Rodney about the baby that day, but there are funeral arrangements to be made, another casket – this one is not empty; only a small remorse – to be sent through the gate and he sees Rodney only briefly, rushing to and fro with a datapad in hand without the time to pause.

* * *

It’s been well over a week since the discovery of the Ancient outpost. Since he got back the results from the pregnancy test. (Carson has urged him again and again to come to a decision else someone will realize the truth soon and take away the decision from him.)

John means to tell Rodney of the tiny life sparked inside of him, just as they’re given the go for another test-run.

Before the words are out of his mouth Rodney’s occupied with readings from another datapad and yelling at Radek for some mistake and gulping down more coffee, and eventually John just sighs and lets him be; some other day will do, some other hour, once – _if_ – the weapon is up and running. Then they will have a new weapon to fight against the Wraith. Then they will have time. Then.

_The risks are too great,_ many of the scientists mutter, eyes roaming the data and Elizabeth is hanging onto their words with knotted fists. There's a reason why project Arcturus was abanonded. But Rodney claims he can fix it. That he can do it. Eventually he manages to convince her of that too.

And John _hopes_ , while trying to recall the last time Rodney and he had a decent conversation without being interrupted by beeping ancient machinery and mute numbers on a screen (nine days, eighteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, eight seconds, forever.)

* * *

As all the scientists are shipped off-world leaving just the two of them behind to test the weapon a final time, the power-levels keep rising and the weapon won’t be shut off and Rodney stands there, bravado in his hands, so stubborn and excited and boosted to the sky with ego.

Rodney just won’t _listen_.

Not until John grabs his shoulders, glaring at him coldly – he doesn’t scream; his stare is what makes Rodney understand that this is bad, this is going to kill them all if they don’t shut down the weapon right _now_.

The alpha goes on about possibilities and smartness and his chance to prove things, his chance to show them, _his chance to_ –

“ _Jealousy_? That’s what this is about? You want to prove that you’re smarter than all of the Ancients and your science teams – _that’s_ what you’re risking our lives and _my trust_ for – just to satisfy your ego?” John hisses.

He would have meant to tell him of the truth then, just to make Rodney see sense, but alarms are going off wildly and the gun won’t stop spewing deadly bolts through the atmosphere. They could be stuck underground, no place to run.

“I can get it under control, just give me a second!”

“No, you _can’t_! McKay! _McKay, **listen to me**_! I’ve seen this before, Rodney,” he growls, face inches from the alpha’s; “Pilots who wouldn’t eject because they were so certain they could fix whatever was wrong, they’d stay and press useless buttons _right_ until the craft hit the ground!”

Rodney freezes up. Like it hasn’t struck him before now, what he’s breaking.

Wide-eyed, Rodney jerks back from the computer, in a daze, and then, finally, he agrees.

_They have to get out of here._

* * *

They cannot shut the weapon off. Overload is inevitable and then the whole planet will disappear.

While the omega rushes the jumper toward the gate, Rodney’s babbling in the co-pilot seat; explanations and useless apologies and demands - John shuts him out because he has to.

* * *

John had meant to tell him about the baby, but then Rodney screws everything up by destroying three quarters of a solar system.

* * *

“…while you put the lives of others at risk! You blew up _three quarters_ of a _solar system!”_

“It was five sixths and it was uninhabited –”

Being yelled at by Elizabeth for his idiocy creates paper cuts on Rodney’s body, but it’s nowhere near the aching wounds he himself made when he ignored John’s words in favour for his own hubris. And he’s so scared that he’s lost him, broken their bond beyond repair. They aren’t just mates for a season, Rodney doesn’t want him just because he’s an omega to fill his bed, but Rodney honest-to-god _loves him_ and if he’s ruined that – if John doesn’t trust him anymore, if he _hates_ him …

* * *

Teyla and Ronon return from a trading mission, arms full of new supplies and food, to find them in shambles, words stilted and cold, the catastrophe yet clinging to their skin.

Rodney has locked himself up in his lab and John has blocked his access to their (or what was theirs, at least) quarters, busying himself training with the marines in the gym, wrestling them down with a shockingly raw force.

Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the storm to settle.

John won’t look Rodney in the face for three days and eight hours and forty-two minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re _pregnant_? Why the hell didn’t you tell me earlier?!”

“You were too busy nearly _killing_ _us_ , I never really had the chance and I’m sure as hell you were too busy to _listen_ in any case. But next time we’re about to get vaporized in order to satisfy your ego, I’ll be sure to warn you beforehand that _oh and_ _yeah, I’m having your baby_ ,” John retorts tightly and nearly regrets it when seeing the hurt flashing across Rodney’s face.

But Rodney has to _understand_ that he nearly broke them apart that day, when he wouldn’t listen, when he was too wrapped up in his selfish need for acknowledgement and glory – for those three days afterwards, he’d been on the verge of tearing himself apart, close to just dialling a random world and walk away, just to get away from the memory of Rodney’s exploiting of his trust. Rodney has to _see_.

“But, I – okay. I was wrong and you were right and I should’ve listened. I’m sorry, John. But I’ll be right about things, without exception, effective immediately.” The words cause his lips to twitch and he nearly smiles; gods, he’s missed Rodney, missed his so fucking much. “Okay, that was a joke. A joke. I mean, I’m positively right about ninety-five per cent of everything, but – I, I hope you haven’t lost all faith in me. Or your trust. At the very least, I … I hope I can earn that back.”

“That may take a while,” John murmurs. But he doesn’t want it to. He wants to be able to trust Rodney with his life but if Rodney was able to do that, ignore him just to prove that he’s best, then …

He hesitates.

And Rodney deflates then, shoulders sagging. “I hate fighting with you.”

“I know.” _Me too._

They don’t kiss – just, almost - as they embrace for the first time in far too many hours.

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry …_

* * *

The bump is barely visible under his BDU. After he’d told Rodney and feels certain again, he lets Elizabeth and his team know; it is only right and it’s only a matter of time anyway before they would’ve figured it out on their own. Besides, she can help dealing with the people back on Earth because it’s inevitable that one day they’ll know too.

The rest of the base quickly follows.

A small uproar arises when they realize he’s five weeks pregnant by now. The marines look confused as what to do, orders clashing with instinct. Someone mutters about having him quit going on off-world missions, about sending him back to Earth, but John meets all glares and words with steel of his own, and the whispers eventually quiet down.

Thankfully Teyla acts no different than before, as always her calm, concerned, battle-ready self. She offers, after John explains the whole deal with omegas in the military and Earth’s views on the matter and how the IOA might get involved, to let him come to the mainland if they forbid him to go on off-world missions, to have the baby amongst the Athosians. He’s not sure how to responds to that.

Ronon is tenser, hesitant to spar with him but when the big guy goes soft, John uses it to his advantage and for the first (and possibly last) time defeats him while sparring in the gym. After that, the Satedan eases up, realizing while he’s a pregnant earthling omega, he’s also a trained soldier who will still (attempt to) kick his ass at any given opportunity.

But Elizabeth voicing her concerns about him going on off-world missions by the time he enters his eight week is just ridiculous.

Then Rodney glances at him in hope and concern and, with a sigh, John eventually surrenders, making a deal with his mate not to leave Atlantis once he’ll have lost the mobility to be able to fight properly, setting no certain dates as of yet. He’ll have to make arrangements. Someone else must fill out his spot on the premiere Atlantis team eventually, even if the thought doesn’t suit him well, and he’s not comfortable with being stuck with paperwork for the rest few months – but, at least no one has questioned his spot as the military commander of the expedition yet.

It’s not ideal – nothing ever is – but at least it soothes Rodney a little (if just a little) and he’ll stop pestering him about it (for a while). The alpha would probably prefer it if he wouldn’t leave the base starting _now_ , but John can’t let himself be tied down.

He’s always been afraid of being tied down.

* * *

Something flickers in-between the trees, fleeing out of sight – into a darkened cave. As their flashlights fall upon the figure’s face, they all take a reeling step back.

Wraith. Only, she’s dressed like a human, with the face of a sixteen year old, and she looks utterly terrified, clinging to a man she calls her father.

“Please, don’t shoot! She’s not what you think,” the man pleads.

“She’s _Wraith_ ,” Ronon growls.

“She’s different from the other _daimos_. When the ship descended from the sky, she was just a child … she’s just a child. Please. She’s not dangerous.”

Then, later, once they have lowered their guns (but Ronon cannot be convinced to set his from kill to stun even by Teyla), the man claims to have cured her from the need to feed.

* * *

After some debate, they take Carson with them to the planet to examine her. There is a possibility, however slim, of creating a cure of some sort. A weapon. A victory. The doctor is guarded by Ronon and should be okay, but concerned voices are raised; he’s both omega and their best physician. But John sides with the doctor – if the Wraith girl can answer just a single question on Wraith physiology then, perhaps, Carson can create something to defeat them.

While the doctor goes to the cave, John – and Rodney, on the alpha’s insistence because he refuses to leave him alone now, constantly shooting looks at him as if to make sure he’s not going to dissolve - return to the village. There’s still a second, adult Wraith out there, somewhere that they need to find and they must explain somehow to the villagers without giving away Ellia, the girl.

* * *

They find a withered corpse in an alleyway.

“This is … bad,” Rodney mutters, as discretely as possible (which being Rodney isn’t that very discrete) as the furious, scared villagers swarm around them. “Really, really bad. Zaddik was telling the truth after all. Which means -”

“We’re not screwed, McKay,” John cuts in. “It’s just one Wraith. We’ve faced far worse than that.”

Their leader approaches, his face dark.

“Colonel Sheppard,” he greets, eyes travelling downward and John unconsciously draws his arms in to rest on his P90, hanging protectively over his belly. But there is no comment on the bulge, even if the man and half the people of the village probably can sense his omega scent. “Has there been any progress with the hunt?”

“We’re working on it,” John answers vaguely at the same time as Rodney says, “None whatsoever.”

“Maybe we could help.”

Rodney looks incredulous, which surprises John none given the fact that these people have never used a Stargate – theirs orbits the planet - and don’t have flashlights, so it’s not easy for the alpha to get any hopes up on the kind of effective, technologically advised help that he’d prefer. But the scientist also severely lacks subtlety. “Help us with what, running around in the forest with your pitchforks? Oh yes, that would help us all for sure.”

“What he’s _trying_ to say is that we can handle it,” John fills in smoothly, trying to copy Teyla’s perfectly calm negotiator tone of voice that always seems to soothe people, because there’s a dangerous flash in the man’s eyes and around them people are muttering. “Just be patient. We’ve dealt with the Wraith before – we’ll take care of it.”

* * *

Then Ellia gets her hold on the prototype retro-virus and as the adult Wraith stands above Rodney, ready to feed, she leaps on it with a feral cry. A spray of bullets hits them both. A neck is twisted and broken. Rodney lies frozen on the ground for a moment, unable to comprehend. Carson is lying in a brush, casually thrown aside, unable to make any comprehensible noise.

Feet come crashing through the undergrowth and Ronon’s gun firing alongside Teyla’s P90; they pull the scientist to his feet and help Carson to take cover.

Rodney looks around in a daze. “Where’s Sheppard?”

“I think he headed back to the village, to warn them,” Teyla says between bursts.

“And you let him go _alone_?!”

The Wraith girl – except she’s something else now, more of an Iratus bug and nowhere near a human – snarls and leaps away.

* * *

When hearing the creature’s eerie shrieks, John turns around, back to the cave. He’s not as good a tracker as Ronon but Zaddik hasn’t hidden his trail at all as he’s gone to seek his adoptive daughter.

When he gets there, the man is dying, coughing blood. John kneels beside him. The bruising is severe, he could have internal injuries and while being no doctor, he’s seen enough men die on the field to know that he doesn’t have much time left. He hasn’t been fed on, but beaten and clawed at as if the girl has turned into an animal.

She jumps out from the trees and he manages to put thirteen bullets into her but she falls down on him alive nonetheless, and as his back his the ground he has no time to worry or fear. Her grip is like iron, holding him down as she seeks to get a grasp on his chest, an imitation of feeding with her claws. His knife is inches from her neck.

Red suddenly spreads out from her back and she falls back, allowing him to roll over and onto his feet, grabbing his handgun. In the few seconds it take to get up, Ronon has shot her again, stunning her, and John puts two more bullets in her head before she stills.

Ronon lays a hand on his back. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Body sore by the impact as she’d attacked him earlier, and knowing Ronon’s too stubborn to do otherwise, he lets the Satedan lead him back to the rest of the team, a hand on his arm, steadying him. There’s blood trickling down over his elbow.

* * *

Rodney won’t stop hovering or chattering.

“- and running off like that on your own? You could’ve been killed! And what about the baby?! Oh my god, could you _ever_ stop running off on suicide missions! You thought you could handle it, didn’t you, Kirk? Except if Conan hadn’t come to rescue you would’ve been _eaten_ and left me a widow!”

“Rodney, please, just, cut it out for a moment and let me concentrate on flying.”

(It’s a wonder that Teyla and Ronon haven’t shut themselves in in the jumper’s back compartment yet to escape the raised voices.)

“Fine,” the alpha harrumphs, no more words needed to show his displeasure. “But once we’re back on Atlantis –”

“You’re going to grill me, fine, I’m aware of that.”

This shouldn’t have to be normal, yelling at one another. Nothing of this should be considered and _accepted_ as normal. The seams haven’t been wholly mended yet and they both know it. And dread fills John as he wonders what’ll happen if, when, they run out of thread.

* * *

His back and side are bruised, and his muscles sore. But the wound on his arm, which sure stung as hell when Ellia dug her claw in, has healed by the time they get back to base and immediately Carson takes a blood-sample and puts him through a series of tests, to make sure nothing’s out of the ordinary. John rolls his eyes but allows it, because arguing with a doctor is often just a waste of time and, besides, Rodney wouldn’t stop pestering him.

But the baby is all right as far as they can tell. Carson suggests it’s time to do a proper scan, but John doesn’t want to do it alone.

* * *

Both of them open their mouths at the same time to apologize. John for taking matters into his own hands and shouting and keeping secrets; Rodney also for selfishly thinking he can fix things on his own, and for yelling and screwing up and generally being a dick as of late.

John considers a makeshift date with dinner in the mess hall and game of chess on the east pier. Rodney considers building spaceships.

“Will we be OK?”

“Yeah. We will. (One day.) I promise.”

* * *

The first moving pictures coming from the scanner are vague and blurry, and John stares at the screen for a long while having some difficulty breathing.

Then the room is filled with the dull thuds of its heartbeats, and Rodney’s face is filled with light and tenderness and love as he whispers, “Oh my god, that’s _our baby_ , John.”

* * *

Next day, feeling refreshed after finishing his morning jog along with Ronon, John gets called down to the infirmary.

“What is it, doc?”

“I got the results back from the blood sample I took yesterday,” the doctor says, typing open the results on a screen for him to see. Frowning a little, John steps closer to read what it says. He doesn’t know that much about medicine, but something’s clearly wrong here. “I found traces of the retrovirus in your system.”

“… Her claw. When she attacked me,” John realizes.

It’s accelerated the healing process and explains why he’s able to outrun Ronon because he normally never is able to, even at his best. He doesn’t realize exactly what this means though or how bad it is, when the doctor immediately tells him to lie down and they discover that there’s no trace of the bruises anymore.

And on his arm, where the wound had been, there’s a small odd mark, bluish and dark – it must’ve appeared during the night, because John can’t recall seeing it before.

Carson looks at him apologetically before calling for Elizabeth over the radio.

John grabs his wrist before the doctor can turn away. “Carson, the – the baby. Will it be okay?”

“I don’t know, lad,” the Scot says uncertainly. “It seemed fine during the scan. Risks are that the foetus too has been infected through its blood system.”

“But you can find a cure? Right? Doc?”

He gets no reply, because the doctor is too busy talking to Elizabeth and rushing to alert the nurses and John curses that he didn’t bring a radio so he can’t talk to Rodney and tell him that _everything’s fine, really, there’s nothing to worry about_ (except there is).


	5. Chapter 5

After two days, he’s put into quarantine, his eyes a molten yellow.

His memories – later, once he’s woken up again – are blurry but he can sharply recall the distinguished instinct to _protect_ and, unable to recognize them as anything but a threat, he attacks two marines as they deliver food to his cell. Shrieking, fists bare. He doesn’t know why they hesitate to fire. They fall down so easily and once they’re unconscious on the floor, John backs up in a corner, for a moment the human in his head taking over the beast.

By the time a whole group of doctors and soldiers armed with tranquilizers, John is just standing there in confusion and horror or what he’s done, and he lets them take the bodies – _oh god, don’t let him have killed them_ – without fight.

* * *

Rodney can’t take his eyes off the security recordings.

The whole left side of John’s body has changed colour and he can’t tell if he’s human anymore.

In the background, Carson is explaining what the retrovirus is doing, how it’s turning John to a creature more like an Iratus bug than a Wraith, how he’s becoming wild and untameable and how the baby must be going through the same shocking progress. How it’s getting more and more difficult for John to grasp his humanity and remember anything at all.

But Rodney listens with only half an ear. They haven’t let him in to see his mate yet.

How easily he almost kills those two men is a shilling display of raw strength. To protect the child, Carson reckons. All instinct. No remembrance. John has trained with those two marines, sparred with them in the gym and worked with them for months, John knows them (even if Rodney doesn’t know their names), yet he shows no signs of having any memory as he attacks them.

Oh god, the baby. They can’t tell if it’s all right, if it’s human or starting to become a Wraith or something else entirely, and they can only hope that the curse Carson is making can reverse it. In theory it should, but the shock of altering its very DNA while still in the womb could easily lead to a miscarriage and Rodney chokes at the thought.

It can’t happen. Not now. Not _ever_.

Fuck, he should never have let them go on that mission. Never have let him rush off on his own, to be all heroic and face Ellia. He should’ve urged him to go back through the gate and wait while they sorted it out. Should’ve –

“Let me see him.”

“Rodney,” Elizabeth says, softly, “you see how … how John is acting. He doesn’t recognize us anymore.”

“I don’t care. He’s my mate. I _have to_.”

* * *

John doesn’t attack him, nor does he approach, he just stands there staring with eyes formed into thin slits as he sniffs the air, and Rodney holds his breath.

“Hey – John. You recognize me, John?”

But the omega doesn’t speak or attack or move or anything for a good long while. Eventually, he tilts his head, like an affirmative, and then trembles as if by an inner struggle. Rodney calls his name again and, gods, his mate’s some kind of Wraith-like bug –

“We’re going to fix this. We’re working on it. Hold on.”

A promise.

* * *

By the time Carson has developed a way to purge the retrovirus from his body, John has been under quarantine for four days, no one allowed near, not even doctors unless they’re under heavy escort. Not after his instincts once overrode all other orders and he pressed Carson against the wall with a steel grip, his hand forming a claw, as the doctor had come down to examine him again.

All John had sensed then – when he hadn’t been John, but something else, a creature, an _animal_ – was someone nearing and danger and the fear of being trapped, and the fear of someone harming the life within him. Nothing was stronger then but the drive to protect the baby.

After that, the doctor always come surrounded by a dozen heavily armed marines. They would have stunned him to keep him still but they don’t dare now, unable to wholly predict how he’d react to that, how the baby would react. The risks are too great. So Carson approaches slowly, an image of calm, backing him into a corner.

The few times he’s able to break through his animal state, he stands still, because that part of him can still trust the doctor and the marines.

But a bigger part of him isn’t able to properly recognize Carson as a friend or Elizabeth as someone important anymore, and the marines are all just shadows without names. Teyla is there, elusively in the background, out of the corner of his eyes, but she hadn’t been a direct danger like the rest (later, Carson assumed it was because of the traces of Wraith DNA in the Athosian that allowed them to connect without him attacking).

Rodney though, is so familiar, his scent heady with _mate_ and _safety_ and Rodney is the one who holds him when Carson injects him with the cure, because the human inside the creature cannot ever consider him to be a threat.

* * *

Vaguely, John remembers being angry and panicked when the needle pierced his skin and of Rodney’s hands, steady and strong and a voice babbling soothingly over his head (he hadn’t understood the words at the time and later he doesn’t remember them).

* * *

Once the changes have settled, John is still unconscious, tranquil and peaceful in sleep, all wrinkles of worry smoothed out, but Carson runs another ultrasound scan anyway while Rodney sits on the bedside, unusually quiet, holding John’s hand. It’s human and normal again. All John. Benign. Familiar.

“Well?” he demands, releasing the breath he’s been holding.

“It appears to be fine, which is a miracle in itself considering all that’s happened,” Carson says, exhaling too. “The drug shared in the foetus’ blood system. There, you can see, there’s its head.” It’s still too early to determine the gender of the child and anyway, it feels somewhat wrong to search for such information when John isn’t aware to share it, so Rodney doesn’t press Carson to find out.

It’s so _tiny_.

And it lives, the baby lives, and John lives, and everything’s going to be okay now.

Everything is going to be okay.

“You should go and rest, Rodney,” Carson says and a wave of exhaustion rolls over him then, as he realizes he hasn’t slept for forty-eight hours, surviving on coffee and stimulants and tasteless sandwiches and he probably looks twice as bad as he feels. But he can’t just walk away and leave John alone.

He’s made a promise.

“I can’t leave – I need to be here, when he wakes up. Go right ahead and drug me if you want but I’m not leaving his side willingly.”

The doctor sighs but gives in, understanding. “Very well. It shouldn’t be too long now. But once he’s woken you really need to sleep, Rodney. Now, I must tell Elizabeth and the others. Is it all right if Teyla and Ronon come and see him?”

They’ve been hanging by the door for the past two hours, anxiously, and Rodney nods. They’re a team. They’re family, even (at least he figures Teyla will have no problem being aunt).

When the two arrive, they don’t exchange any words, there are none necessary, and Teyla lays a hand on his shoulder and Ronon pats his back. Rodney doesn’t look away from John’s face.

Everything’s going to be okay.

* * *

An hour later, John opens his eyes. They’re hazel again.

“Hey.”

“John?”

“Yeah. It’s – it’s me. I.” Suddenly, he sits, or tries to but he’s hooked up to wires and his whole body protests so he lies back down again, listening to his own pulse through the machinery. “Rodney, the baby –”

“It’s okay, Carson examined you and you’re both okay and human. You’re okay.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Rodney doesn’t ask what for _._

John looks over at him properly for the first time, noticing the dark rings under his eyes and the small frown and he strokes Rodney’s hand back, thumbs bumping. “You look like shit.”

“Oh, thanks. I wasn’t the one who was a _bug_ two days ago.”

“Two days?”

“Well, more precisely one and a half,” Rodney says. “The conversion back to normal took a while. You’ve been unconscious the whole time, hooked up to all sorts of carefully measured drugs to keep you stable. The baby made things … complicated, but it all worked out, in the end.”

“How long was I…you know…?”

“About a week. Carson worked his ass off to – to fix it.”

“Yeah. I guess I owe him a beer.”

“Carson drinks beer? And wait a moment; you’re _not_ going drinking, not in your condition –”

John laughs, albeit his chest hurts at the effort. For the moment he can believe that everything’s going to be okay.

* * *

The ancient battle-ship looks dead and abandoned, torn by heavy fire and brutal battles fought long ago. Having been dormant for too many lifetimes to remember, Aurora wakes suddenly as the city calls it back.

Unfortunately, the Wraith have heard its subspace beacon too. Between the nearing enemy cruises and the over two hundred ancients in stasis aboard there is little time to argue about decisions.

* * *

“It’s perfectly safe.”

“Which is why _I_ should go.”

“What?! No-no-no-no, you’re _not_ going!”

John looks at him, recalling every argument and heated words and the promises whispered in-between. He would’ve won this time, if not for both Teyla and Ronon agreeing with the scientist, who lowers himself into one of the pods.

For thirty-five minutes all John can do is pace and wait while Caldwell relies over radio the position of the Wraith cruisers. There isn’t much time – but if the ancients in the vessel carry vital information and knowledge … they cannot just pass up the opportunity.

* * *

Only Rodney won’t get out of there.

Maybe he _can’t_.

There’s a Wraith hooked up to the virtual environment that Rodney’s trapped in, and he can’t continue waiting now they know this, cannot keep pacing.

“John, you shouldn’t,” Teyla says, grabbing his arm as he turns on the empty pod with a wave of his hand, the technology humming in his head. “Rodney said we didn’t know whether it could harm the child –”

“Look, I need to help him. He’s – he’s my mate, Teyla, I can’t just leave him in there.”

_I can’t lose him,_ are the unspoken words, _he’s the father of my baby and the second half of my soul and I can’t lose him._

She lets go of his arm. He lets go of himself.

* * *

Everything in the virtual reality – or system or environment or whatever it is to be called – is pale and still and quiet, the ship’s power running in a loop, having been in a standstill for hours or maybe years.

Rodney’s sitting cross-armed in a cell when John flickers into being right outside the bars, startling the guards, and in the few seconds that it takes to take in all this information, the guards have called for reinforcements over radio and backed him into a corner.

It’s so strange, how _physical_ everything feels, like it’s actually _reality_ except John knows for sure that it isn’t. Foreign cloth brushes against his skin. He has a pulse, but there are no smells. For a moment he forgets to breathe as he lays a hand on his abdomen, until he feels the swell, warm with life beneath his fingertips and even though that also may be part of the illusion, it’s a little comforting. The guards are still pointing something at him – maybe some kind of weapon (would they even work here? Could weapons harm him when they weren’t real?)

Rodney cries out his name, on his feet at once.

“How did you get here? Who are you?” one of the guards asks repeatedly, utterly confused.

“I’ve already told you, we’re from outside,” Rodney cuts in, raising his voice, before John can answer. “I tapped into your virtual environment to have a chat, and John, _what the hell_ are you doing here, have you no common sense at _all_?! I specifically gave you an order not to come!”

“I chose to ignore it, besides you don’t exactly have the authority to give me orders. You couldn’t get out-”

“ _Wouldn’t_ being the operative word, Colonel. The Captain has information that I need to know, something about a Wraith weakness that could help us win the war. Only these folks don’t seem to quite comprehend the fact that _this_ isn’t, well, _real_ …”

“Rodney, listen to me! There’s a Wraith aboard, impersonating one of the Ancients. We have to _get out_.”

* * *

Aurora’s self-destruct leaves nothing to be salvaged, but at least the Wraith won’t get their hold on the ancient hyperdrive systems, nor have they realized that Atlantis still stands.

* * *

“We’re going to be fathers.”

He sounds scared.

“Atlantis isn’t the right place for a baby,” Rodney continues and John shudders against him. This is the longest they’ve held each other all since the disaster with project Arcturus _-_ he’s lost count of the days.

He doesn’t often voice his fears, and John thinks he might be afraid of _speaking_ of fear so it takes a moment to let the words form for Rodney’s ears.

“Don’t let them send me back to Earth.”

“I won’t. I won’t ever let them do that.”

(A promise.)


	6. Chapter 6

Just as he enters his fifteenth week, word reaches them from one of Teyla’s off-world contacts. This is supposed to be a peaceful talk, an exchange of information, as they trust Teyla and Teyla trusts her contacts to speak the truth, so John doesn’t bring any extra ammo.

But people can be bought for money and trust abused and words misleading.

The planet is meant to be uninhabited and neutral, but they find themselves as gunpoint. Blindfolded and bound they’re led through the Stargate without knowing the address.

* * *

Ford – _alive_ , his life eye dark and wrinkled, his chuckle hinting at madness – lays a hand on his shoulder as if they were friends, as if they still know one another. But looking at Ford’s face now, John is saddened to realize he can only see a stranger.

The young man smiles at them all and says that _it’s okay,_ _you’re among friends,_ and no one will be harmed as long as they follow his plan. As long as they follow orders and take the enzyme, laced in the food and flowing through the veins of every man in the room, surrounding them.

“Congratulations! You just had your first dose.”

Rodney’s on his feet at once, yelling; Teyla acts a lot calmer but on the inside she’s furious too, John can sense it from a mile off. The temperature of the room is rising and Ronon is close to breaking someone’s bones.

“Look, Ford, I know what you’re trying to do,” John cuts in in the middle of Rodney’s tirade, hoping for the alpha to calm down before he causes himself a heart attack. Even if he doesn’t know everything that Ford’s trying to do, because the man is not completely sane. “But this isn’t going about it the right way. What would drugging the premiere gate team prove? Weir will never listen to us when we’re hooked up on the enzyme. No, the best way is for you to come with us, have Beckett look you over … that’s the best proof.”

Then Ford looks at him, face softening a bit. “Your food was clean.”

It’s not, he’s told later, because he’s the former commanding officer of the man or because of the baby. Ford doesn’t apologize, but John doesn’t miss how he looks at him, startled and contemplative, murmuring that he’d no idea Sheppard was omega and even less of an idea that he could be carrying a child. _(It wasn’t in the plan.)_

His food is clean because Elizabeth trusts him, and somehow Ford imagines he will gladly be the PR boy to deliver the news to her that his entire team and his _mate_ are high on the Wraith enzyme. That it’s all good and well and right. That it’s not crazy and dangerous and he cannot argument anymore because once John mentions the word _insane_ , Ford suddenly grabs his wrist, standing far too close for comfort. He doesn’t voice any threats, but John doesn’t need to hear them; the look on the man’s face is enough to know what damage can be done if they don’t comply.

* * *

They take away their guns but give them the liberty to walk around as they please. Of course, nothing is ever that easy. The gate is entirely unguarded, but the control crystals to the DHD are missing so it doesn’t even matter. Even Rodney couldn’t find a way around that.

John has no idea how fast the enzyme will begin to change his team. Will it be a matter of hours or days? How many doses are needed to make them loose control? And even if they manage to escape somehow, once they’ve become depended on it, how do they save themselves?

When asked, they can only say that they feel fine – well, except Rodney, but it might be delusions wrought from terror (he keeps mumbling that his knees are tingling).

* * *

“You and McKay mated? Really? When?”

“Never saw it coming, did you,” John mutters.

In the other room, Teyla and Ronon are sparring. One of Ford‘s guys is apparently some kind of scientist or at least clever enough to be one, and he’s taken away Rodney to show him the lab. The lab wherein they make themselves go mad, slowly, drop by drop of the enzyme, but no one seems to see it – Ford least of all.

He shouldn’t have let Rodney go, but Ford keeps separating them. As if he knows just how dependent they’ve become on one another.

“Actually, it’s not that much of a surprise,” Ford admits. “The way you were always at each other’s throats … it would’ve happened sooner or later. You being omega, on the other hand, _that_ surprised me. You hid it well. Though it’s obvious _why_. So, did you out yourself when he knocked you up?”

John barely bites back a scowl.

Knowledge gives Ford leverage. Because if Rodney doesn’t do as he says and fixes the dart, if the team doesn’t keep taking the enzyme – all Ford has to do is raise his hand against John and the baby; Rodney will _never_ risk that, and neither will Ronon or Teyla, so they obey. And as the hours trickle by, making days, they are slowly losing themselves to the enzyme and cannot think of a plan.

Only John still can _think_.

He wishes he was carrying his sidearm.

* * *

They’ve been prisoners for four days when the baby first kicks.

It’s a tiny, subtle movement. The only reason he distinguishes it is because he’s been lying awake for five hours trying and failing to sleep, too aware of each faint sound from the chamber next to this one (Ford has a bunch of fucking _Wraith_ chained up there to a wall) and curve of Rodney’s form pressed against his own and every feeling of his body.

Next to him on the thin mattress, Rodney keeps snoring. The alpha is curled up on his side, an arm snuck around his mate and John considers waking him for a moment, to whisper to him that _the baby just moved_ , _Rodney, the baby just kicked!_ – but he stops himself, lips two inches from Rodney’s collarbone.

Rodney needs to rest. If they are to escape, he needs to be fresh and bright and it’s bad enough that the enzyme has begun taking hold on him; it’s a wonder he’s been able to fall asleep at all, hyperactive as he is during the days.

Instead, John shifts and presses his left palm against his belly, the other hand entwined with Rodney’s and if he closes his eyes briefly he can almost imagine that they’re back in their quarters on Atlantis, just the two of them, alone and _safe_ (relatively safe. Everything is relative).

They have to escape. How long is Ford going to keep them here? If the dart cannot be fixed, will he let them go, or erase the evidence? He wouldn’t just release them – they know far too much. Ford knows that if he does let them pass through the gate to Atlantis, a special ops team would be on the planet within the following hour, ruining months of hard work. No, Ford wouldn’t risk that.

They can’t stay here, chained to a planet they don’t know the name of.

* * *

Rodney’s working on the dart with the frenzy of a starving man presented with a buffet.

This has got to work. It’s their only means of escape. Have John fly the dart, beam them up and bring them back to Atlantis. The plan is raw and startling in its simplicity and that’s why, Rodney figures, he couldn’t come up with it himself. It’s the enzyme, blinding him. Making it difficult to keep the thoughts and not have them slipping away like tiny grains of sand.

In a way, just after he’s received a new dose – they keep getting larger and closer – as his senses sharpen and his needs grow, it’s what he imagines omegas could go through when in heat. Being near John is a mixture of comforting and maddening, his body urging him to _touch_ and _take_ and he struggles every day to not just … reach out and _claim_. But John is clearly uneasy and what if he hurt him, or the child? He can’t do that. He can’t – _he_ _can’t_ –

* * *

\- lose control. Break away. But everything threatens to spill over the edge, and on the sixth day, John and he leaves the cave of operations, his hand clawing into John’s wrist.

There’s a large field where the gate is situated near the edge of the forest where they can be alone, and there Rodney stops himself from holding back, feeling the enzyme wreaking havoc on his body as he grinds against his mate, gasping and grunting, _needing_ to –

In the aftermath, John holds him, whispers _I’m not blaming you,_ _it’s going to be okay, we’re going to get out of here, we have a plan_ and Rodney lays a hand on his omega’s swollen abdomen, whispering _I’m sorry I’m such an idiot,_ _we have to get out of here,_   _we have to be okay, _I’ll fix it.__

* * *

He’s glad once he finally gets to sleep, pulse lowered to a more manageable rate, considering his hypothermia and everything, John in his arms – when they’re together nothing can touch them (he keeps telling himself, hour after hour); when they’re together they’re invincible.

Nothing will ever get between them.

* * *

Then as John climbs into the dart Ford turns around and suddenly a dozen stolen Genii weapons are pointed at Rodney’s head. The scientist grabs for a gun that isn’t there, because none has been given to him yet and his TAC vest is empty of grenades.

“You bastard! You promised we’d all go!”

“Sorry, McKay,” Ford grins, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “But I’m not a stupid man. I know you would try to escape that way.”

How can he expect this plan to go over well? How can he expect to win? How can he expect them to come along without question, without hesitation – how can he expect Rodney to accept that John is going to be there, flying straight into that bloody hive ship?!

“We had a _deal_ , Ford,” John growls.

“Would you rather I just shoot McKay then, Sheppard?”

There is no choice.

“See, I knew you’d come around. Give them back their weapons. We need to be a team for this to work.”

As the men lower their guns and scatter, John looks over their heads and meets Rodney’s gaze and hopes that the alpha can see his eyes from this distance, and _understand_.

* * *

Autopilot grabs the dart and guides it into the bay, and John holds his breath as he released his cargo blindly, praying to whatever deities that may exist out there for Teyla and Ronon to be all right.

Then the alarms go off.

He spends the following half hour running down corridors shooting at everything that moves.

No one answers his calls over the radio.

* * *

Unconsciousness grabs his suddenly, something cold spreading along his back and his last thought is a scattered image, small pieces of worry and hope and fear _oh god Rodney (I’m sorry) -_

* * *

”Are you all right?” Teyla’s voice reaches him softly from above as his vision blurrily comes to life.

They’re in a holding cell. Hive ship. Wraith. Captured. Stunned – he was stunned. Oh god, the baby –

“Maybe you should lie down,” the Athosian murmurs as John sharply draws himself up to a sitting position, head pounding. It’s the least of his worries.

Ford is pacing and muttering, looking like he’s about to yell at him in any moment now, for screwing up, for letting the dart go on autopilot and setting off the alarms. But Ronon is there, the slightest of comforts, keeping the man at bay for the moment. John can’t deal with him right now.

This wasn’t in the plan.

A couple of Ford’s men are there too, those that survived. The makeshift scientist isn’t among them, and John doesn’t know their names.

“We’ve got to get out of here.”

Only they get no chance to do anything, because then several Wraith arrive to drag him out of the cell, as he stands up when they want the one who flew the ship. If he can stall them, there’s a chance his team can escape.

* * *

The Queen regards him with cold eyes. He’s cheeky and defiant and if he could just gain control of his body and _stand up_ –

He really has to stop the habit of facing her like this. This time she probably won’t hiss and draw away without feeding on him. Her hand raises and John tries to move but can’t, and his breath hitches. _This can’t be how it ends._

Then, suddenly, she crumbles to the floor and her hold on him is gone. John flies to his feet. The guards fall, one by one, and the Wraith worshippers scatter, specks of white disappearing into the dark as Ford appears across the room. The man throws him a nine mill, which John catches on reflex.

“Go down that hall-way, fifty meters, then turn left,” Ford says, “you find Teyla and Ronon’s cell there. And, here,” he hands over something. A small Genii storage device. John grasps it uncertainly. “It contains the address to the compound.”

To Rodney. To free him. The unspoken is almost like an apology.

Then Ford runs the other way, and despite all the man’s done, despite drugging his team and capturing them and running off, despite turning down their pleads before to have him return, John still doesn’t want him to just go and get killed. He could come back to Atlantis and find a cure to his addiction, find a home instead of being on the run, could regain their trust and friendship if he could just –

“Ford!”

“ _Go_ , Sheppard.”

“Wait – _Ford_!”

They don’t say goodbye.


	7. Chapter 7

The guards are huge and he takes them down with a fist and his head spins and he grabs the control crystals, repeating the address home aloud just to remember it. Oh, it was so stupid. _Stupid_. Enzyme’s not good. Not good. But the guards. And the DHD. And John. He has to get back – get out – get back home – tell them, tell them, about Ford and the guards and John _the idiot_ flying to the hive ship and Ford’s idiotic _useless_ plan and the captivity –

Rodney makes it through the event horizon without feeling his feet touch the ground and then he’s home and they’re all crazy and won’t listen and want to tie him down – want him to slow down, slow down, _slow down_ –

Nothing’s making sense and then his pulse reaches the crescendo, and he falls onto the floor five feet from the gate, half-way through John’s name.

* * *

Mere seconds before the two hives vaporize each other John activates the gate via the dart’s DHD, dropping the cargo before landing. The planet’s inhabitants have hidden from the culling, but people are curiously peeking out from the windows of the medieval looking houses as the sky lightens up. Teyla and Ronon materialize before the gate, waiting for him as he lands the dart and climbs out of the cockpit. (They probably will have to send a team back later, to retrieve or destroy it. Its presence would disturb the locals and could attract unwanted attention.)

“Good plan,” Ronon says.

John just nods sharply and hopes that it’s not too late to rescue Rodney. Ford had surprised him when handing over the address, but he’s willing to take it as a sign that the young man hasn’t forgotten how it was to be part of their team and maybe even their friend.

But if the Wraith have found out about the compound through any of Ford’s men or the storage device …

“Let’s go home.”

_Please, Rodney, be all right._

* * *

Atlantis greets them with frenzy.

The Daedalus has arrived, Colonel Caldwell having been asked to join in the search for the missing team, and a squad of marines are gathered in the gate room obviously ready to dial out any moment now; Major Lorne is there with his team, and Elizabeth is overseeing it all from the control room, arms crossed.

The moment they step through the event horizon, weapons are raised for the fractions of a second before they are lowered in disbelief and relief.

John goes straight up to Elizabeth, knuckles going pale as he clings to the storage device given to him. “Rodney –”

“Is here. He returned yesterday,” she explains at his baffled look, which quickly turns into relief and then concern, as she goes on – “He was high on the enzyme. Apparently he had taken out the guards holding him captive and made his way back, but I fear he wasn’t very coherent. Since we have no more enzyme we couldn’t wane him off of it, but he pulled through fine, much thanks to his stubbornness. Not that his ego needs to be fuelled. He woke this morning and told us about Ford.”

“Yeah. This contains the address to his secret compound. I’ll fill you in later, but the hives have been destroyed. You can ask Teyla and Ronon.” He hands her the device. She knows what to do with it. “Where’s Rodney now?”

She smiles. “Carson’s keeping an eye on him. I think it’s all right for you to visit.”

* * *

Rodney’s devouring the hospital food like it’s actually good. Which, in the scientist’s opinion, it might actually be. John shakes his head at the sight, but not without fondness.

“Hey.”

The fork stills in mid-air. “Sheppard! You’re alive!”

“ _Obviously_.”

Then Rodney frowns suspiciously. “How?”

“You’re displeased?”

“No! No. But you didn’t come back so you must’ve been captured above the hive, so how come you aren’t, you know, dead?”

“Well,” John says, shoving Rodney’s legs over a bit so that he can sit on the mattress beside him, ignoring the alpha’s mutter of annoyance, “the Queen was rather pissed when another hive showed up, which we took advantage of. While the Wraith were busy arguing, I stole a dart, picked up Teyla and Ronon and busted our way out of there. They destroyed each other, by the way, and the planet was saved from culling.”

Rodney exhales, and John lets him clasp his hand. “Okay. That’s good. That’s good.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Never better. Well, my arm’s still tingling and Carson says it’s just my mind playing tricks, but medicine can’t really be trusted so could you make him examine me again? Good. You know, it was rather fascinating, taking that much enzyme. Not that I enjoyed being high or anything, but at the time, when I was rather lucid, I reckoned that I was perfectly fine and everyone else were strange and even _mad_. Now I do understand why Ford did what he did – why he left. He thought we wanted to trap him here and take away this - I’m hesitant to say _amazing_ because it’s not, but from his point of view it might’ve been – this amazing discovery.”

John can’t come up with a smart comeback to that, so he doesn’t try. He’s far too familiar with breaking out of cages.

“I didn’t _mean_ to take the enzyme. But I had to get past the guards,” Rodney goes on, sounding a bit like a nervous puppy afraid of being scolded and kicked out. “It was the only way.”

“I know. I’m not angry, Rodney,” he grins. “Desperate times, desperate measures. Besides, I’m glad we don’t have to send a rescue team out for you. Wish that’d happen more often.” Then he stands and stretches, yawning.

It’s been a long day.

Carson will probably have Rodney on surveillance for another twelve hours, but tomorrow things will be back to normal, and they can have breakfast in the mess and maybe go to the east pier (not to have a beer, obviously. John honestly misses the beer) and play some chess. Yeah.

Things will be back to normal.

* * *

The Wraith get there first.

By the time they arrived at the compound, days later when Elizabeth finally allows them to go off-world again, there’s nothing left. Nothing but corpses and smashed gear and twisted metal, burning slowly. There’s no sign of Ford. There is no message waiting.

“You think he’s alive?” Rodney asks quietly on the jumper ride back home.

Last John saw of him he was alive, even if the hives went down, so he’ll stick with that.

* * *

He needs to clear his head and maybe his heart. So when Teyla offers them both to follow her to the mainland where she is to visit her surrogate grandmother Charin and partake in the Tendol Feast, an ancient Athosian tradition, both John and Rodney follows.

(It takes a while to convince Rodney to part from his lab and his fifteen computers there though, but John knows the right ways to persuade him.)

On the mainland, Atlantis is out of sight, and even if they have to keep their radios on in case of an emergency it feels very far away. But out here it’s peaceful, it’s calm, and John marvels at the silence even if the hum of Atlantis always brings him comfort.

The Athosians they thrive in their simplicity, though they do admit they could use their own Stargate. Trading is more difficult when the goods have to pass through Atlantis and over the ocean. But relocating isn’t an option at the moment, because on the mainland they are safe, now that the Wraith believe Atlantis to be destroyed and the planet uninhabited, and they have their crops and their families here.

* * *

The night is quiet but for the sounds of crickets – or their Pegasus version, anyhow – and John and Rodney curl up together in the tent given to them, which also had taken some convincing to get Rodney into. The alpha’s brought home-made sunscreen and anti-mosquito cream and takes a great deal of care in applying it, and John thinks he’s just adorable. Naturally, Rodney argues against that. Alphas aren’t _adorable_. In response, John only smirks.

It’s been too long since they’ve had time for just each other without any crisis or threatening axes hanging over their heads.

* * *

The Athosian feast involves singing and fires and wine, and the earthlings are welcomed with open arms. Several recognizable faces are present that John hasn’t seen for weeks. Jinto rushes up to him asking for stories, and won’t budge even if Rodney animatedly argues that they’re here for time alone, not to babysit, but John indulges him. It reminds him of times when they weren’t aware just how great a foe the Wraith were, when they were more naïve of the dangers lurking in the Pegasus galaxy.

Teyla is there, of course, with old Charin, and she also introduces a man, Kanaan, that they’ve never met before. Rodney may be obvious but John doesn’t miss how Teyla looks at the man with adoration and love.

They sit by the edge of the main campfire, blazing in the night, the people forming a circle around it and chorusing in Ancient, the words passed on for generations. It’s enough, and John feels content leaning against Rodney’s shoulder, an arm resting around him, a hand on his belly feeling the baby kick.

Overhead, the sky is slowly turning.

Tomorrow they’ll have to return to Atlantis and face the world again and feel all thorns. But for now, they’re together and together they can overcome supernovas.

* * *

**Together** /təˈɡeðə(r)/  
[adverb]  
 _two and two; well-organized; simultaneous action;  
never alone_


End file.
